


Mixtape (Ian/Mickey One Shot)

by 78violet



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:53:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1228879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/78violet/pseuds/78violet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian loves Mickey almost too much. To the point where it nearly destroys him. One night, he decides he's leaving town and needs to tell Mickey before he goes—not that Mickey would care, according to Ian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mixtape (Ian/Mickey One Shot)

**Author's Note:**

> You might want to listen to this song. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z9KbyzkXapI

The rain was fast and hard and almost unforgivably cold. Ian hadn’t bothered to grab an umbrella or cover himself up at all—he didn’t care.  He was on his way to Mickey’s house and he had something to tell him. See—it’d been a while since he was happy. He started to feel sort of used up and useless. As if Mickey didn’t even really need him or care to see him around—just wanted to get a few fucks in and that was all. It’d always been like that and Ian felt sort of stupid for letting himself get attached and actually _used_ to being with Mickey. They were never even together in the first place and if Mickey even really cared at all, he never showed it. 

As the rain fell harder, Ian’s steps sped up and by the time he looked up from his path, he was already there. He didn’t know if he should knock on the door or just wait. There was a chance Mickey’s dad was home and would beat the shit of of him—or Mickey—on sight and he didn’t want that. He _couldn’t_ see something like that again. Then there was the other chance that Mandy would answer the door and it’d be easy to get her to get Mickey. 

“Gallagher?” Ian turned around quickly, making sure not to slip on the wet pavement. “You got some fuck in ya or what?” Why was it always that? Looking at him almost made him sick in that moment, like he couldn’t say what he needed to. He had to.

“No. That’s not why I’m here.” Part of him wanted to take it back, just go with Mickey and do what they usually did. 

“Why _are_ you here then?” This was when Ian got really mad. Why did he always have to have a reason to be around Mickey?

“I’m leaving.” He turned back and started walking back in the direction of his house. He couldn’t even look back at Mickey because he _knew_ there wouldn’t be any emotion in him.

“Did you come here just to tell me that you’re going home?” _Shit._ He didn’t understand that Ian meant he was _leaving_ leaving. The kind where you don’t come back.

“I’m not just leaving your house. Fuck, Mickey, I’m leaving _town_.” 

Everything after that was a blur. He didn’t even let Mickey respond because he _knew_ that somehow, he’d end up staying and he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to leave. Ian went to bed that night feeling apathetic. He didn’t want to feel anything in that moment, so he didn’t. He _had_ to convince himself that he didn’t care because if he let himself feel everything that he should be feeling about leaving, he couldn’t go.

There were several knocks on the door in the morning from Fiona, telling him to get up and that there was something left for him. When he dragged himself out of bed and moved towards the kitchen counter, he noticed a little package. It was about the size of a cd case and it was wrapped in—more like folded into—computer paper. He grabbed the little package and ran back up to his room, realizing that it was nearly time for him to leave. 

He unfolded the paper around the cd case and shoved the paper into his bag. Luckily, Debbie had an old walkman from years ago that she picked up at some store for a dollar ages ago.He grabbed the walkman from Debbie’s room—without bothering to ask—and put the CD into it. Music flooded into his ears as he picked up his bag and began to walk down the stairs and towards the door. If anyone was asking him what he was doing, this music—luckily—drowned them out. 

 

\----- x -----

It had been almost a full day since Ian had come over to Mickey’s house and told him about leaving. That night, Mickey spent hours trying to forget what had went down between him and Ian. When that was unsuccessful, he knew he had to put a stop to Ian’s plan to leave. Everything began to feel like it was caving in on him. It was odd—feeling like that. He’d made Ian a CD filled with songs that he thought could convince him not to go. Not something Mickey’d usually do but in this case, he had to. He loved that little shit with his entire heart and he knew he couldn’t let him leave. He wasn’t just leaving him—no. He was leaving his entire family. His family that barely kept it together month by month. His family that _needed_ someone like him. Responsible. Rational. Everything Mickey wished he could be. Everything he found in Ian. 

 

\----- x -----

 

_Feeling so uncut, I can barely get the words out of my mouth_

_See you walking up and all these clouded apparitions, they fade out_

_Tell myself just breathe, just breathe you in, just breathe_

_I won’t let you leave, don’t leave me here_

_Don’t you know I need you now?_

 

It was then, during the last song, that Ian realized he needed to pull out the paper that came with the CD. On the inside of the paper, the side he didn’t check, there was a note. _When you get to the last song, really listen._ It was Mickey. This whole thing was Mickey. Mickey—the guy who didn’t care—Milkovich. _Damnit. Why would he pick_ ** _now_** _to show that he cares?_ Ian was so sure he was going to leave. He was ready. Just one song—the _one_ song he paid attention to—changed his whole plan. 

 

_Feels like we both know the night has ended_

_Daylight finds me feeling almost gone and_

_Feels like you could stop my bones from bending around and around_

**_You’re turning my world upside down_ **

 

That was it. “Stop the bus.” His voice came out strong and stern and almost at a shout. He basically ran towards the front of the bus while it was still in motion and continued to tell the driver to stop over and over again. They’d just barely left and were only about five minutes away from the station. 

“Sir, please sit down. I can’t.” No, no, no, no. He couldn’t take no as an answer.

“No. You need to stop. I can’t be on this bus right now. _Please._ ” The bus slowed down and those few minutes that it took to stop felt like the slowest moments of Ian’s life.

As soon as he got out of the bus, he ran. He ran faster than he had ever ran in his life. Faster than all the times he and Lip had ran away from troubled situations. He had to get to Mickey’s because he needed him to know that he listened—that he loved him. He ran past every building and house in sight until he found that familiar path. The path towards Mickey’s house. _His_ Mickey. The Mickey that made him feel alive, no matter how many times he got fed up with their situation. His legs were sore but he kept telling himself to just keep going a little bit longer. He was almost there.

When he did reach Mickey’s house, he didn’t even bother to knock. The door was unlocked and he let himself in. No one seemed to be around but he knew Mickey was. Ian quickly made his way to Mickey’s door and pushed it open. There he was. Laying there in his bed. He began to shake him vigorously. If he didn’t get this out now, he never would. “Mickey, get up. Get up now.” 

“Gallagher? What the fuck?” He looked tired and for a minute, he actually looked like he’d been crying—upset, at least. 

“You turn _my_ world upside down.” Ian had to choke his words out and he just barely finished the sentence before a few tears streamed from his eyes. He just wanted Mickey to know. He closed his eyes and let his head drop. Minutes later, he felt Mickey’s thumbs on his face, wiping away the few tears that were escaping his eyes.

“I can’t believe you were going to leave me.” He couldn’t believe the words he was hearing. For once, Mickey _was_ blurting out his feelings. 

Ian moved his hands onto Mickey’s shirt and gripped onto it tightly. “I’m sorry that I almost left. I’m sorry.” At this point, even Mickey let a single tear come out of his eye and roll down his cheek. Ian instinctively moved in closer to Mickey and kissed the spot where the tear had been resting on his cheek. After sitting there with his lips on his face for just a minute, he began to whisper into Mickey’s ear. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He was apologizing profusely at this point. He _had_ to know. “I need you, Mickey.” 

“I need you so much, Ian. I love you.” Ian backed away from Mickey and felt a grin form on his face. 

“I love you.” He knew now. Mickey knew.   



End file.
